#Heart of Sarajevo

[citaatii]

Tijelo se cisti vodom,

ego suzama

um znanjem

a dusa se cisti ljubavlju...🖤

[the-taste-of-vanilla]

But the other woman will always cry herself to sleep.

The other woman will never have his love to keep.

And as the years go by, the other woman

will spend her life alone

Alone

Alone

.

[gael-garcia]

Do you see humor as a form of political resistance?

Elia Suleiman: Yes, but it isn’t just humor, it isn’t just my films. I think art is a form of resistance. Conducting your daily life can be a form of resistance. Being ecologically aware can be a form of resistance. Poetry is a form of resistance. Making life beautiful is a form of resistance. My films are just the way I see things. When I’m sitting in a cafe and see something that has potential, cinematic potential, I write it down. It’s just a sensation then it has to be developed, but there’s always [something] from daily life which is the point of departure into the cinematic world. It is a form of resistance, but it’s not a strategy. It’s what tickles me from within, and then I toy with it to make sure the humor is complex and layered, with social and political dimensions. That takes a long time in solitude to imagine, and to imagine how others will see it. Because you don’t make films for yourself, you make films to share. I want to make sure the people in Norway or Iceland can also watch these same moments and have their own connectedness with them. I don’t give history lessons, I don’t care for history lessons. Maybe my films can get people intrigued to go and learn more but that’s not what’s in the films themselves. But when it comes to humor, yes, it is essential. Looking at this cruel world we live in, if I didn’t have the humor, I think I would die.

[bobemajses]

The building of one of the oldest synagogues in Bosnia, the Kal Nuevo or Novi Hram, is often associated with an amazing story from 19th century Sarajevo.

It happened that a Bosnian Jew, Moshe Havijo converted to Islam, joined the local dervishes and practised prophecy and miraculous healing. Then in 1820 he suddenly disappeared. The Bosnian governor, Ruždi-pasha supected the Sarajevo Jews of having killed him. He arrested the rabbi and ten superiors of the synagogue, and once they were at hand, also some wealthy Christians, and required a ransom of five hundred thousand silver groschens within two days. Otherwise they would be hanged. Since the community could collect only six thousand groschens in two days, the last night moneylender Ruben Levi, respected and prominent for his righteousness and honesty among the fellow citizens, turned to the Muslim superiors of Sarajevo to soften the heart of he pasha, but he didn't succeed. Next morning, however, in the twilight after the first prayer, three thousand Muslim men surrounded the pasha’s palace, Begluk. The guards were disarmed, the hostages freed, and Ruždi-pasha barely escaped with his head, fleeing to Travnik. The Jewish community decided to spend the collected money on the building of a second synagogue. Thus, the Kal Nuevo was erected in 1821. It is still owned by the Jewish community, which uses it for gallery of temporal exhibitions.

[crystalis]

thread by Arnesa Buljušmić-Kustura

Apr 5, 2024

Today marks the anniversary of the Siege of Sarajevo. The “official” start of the Bosnian Genocide.

Almost 4 years of being cut off from the world, from food and water and electricity. 4 years of daily shelling, bombing, and terrorising campaigns of the city and its residents.

Today is a particularly painful day and in the next 6 months, we will have an anniversary after anniversary after anniversary of the various massacres and horrors that were inflicted on us throughout the Bosnian Genocide.

I was just a child when the Siege of Sarajevo started. The peaceful neighbourhood I once played in was suddenly surrounded and shelled daily. Sniper attacks became common place. Every day you heard news of someone being killed. Someone you knew. Someone you loved.

One of my most vivid memories of the Siege of Sarajevo is my great-grandmother. She was a fiery spirit and I was her favourite human. Her heart gave out when she found out her son had died. I always think she would’ve lived another 10 years had there been no genocide.

The residents of Sarajevo were shot at when they’d be collecting water. When they were in line to get bread and aid. When they’d attempt to get to a hospital. In hospitals. In schools. In libraries. There was nowhere that was fully safe.

On a daily basis, the Serb forces would average of approximately 329 shell impacts per day during the course of the siege, with a maximum of 3,777 on 22 July 1993. The city’s streets, homes, buildings, hospitals, govt and historical buildings were all targeted and destroyed.

Over 13,000 people were killed in the Siege, and over 1600 of them were children. Of the estimated 65,000 to 80,000 children in the city, at least 40% had been directly shot at by snipers; 51% had seen someone killed; 39% had seen one or more family members killed…

19% of the children in Sarajevo had witnessed a massacre; 48% had their home occupied by someone else; 73% had their home attacked or shelled; and 89% had lived in underground shelters.

Today, as I reflect on the Siege of Sarajevo…I cannot help but think of the parallels and similarities with the atrocities occurring during the Siege on Gaza. Over 13,000 children had been killed during these past 7 months.

The Siege of Sarajevo resulted in the deaths of two uncles, my godmother who was a Serb and was killed by Serb forces, my grandmother who was killed when she was making breakfast and her home was attacked by Serb forces. My neighbours, my friends, and countless others.

There is not a day in my life in which I do not recall the horrors we endured. There is not a day in my life in which I do not curse those who destroyed my childhood and my innocence. When I was 5 years old, a Serbian sniper shot at me….a child. I survived thanks to my neighbour.

It has been over 30 years since the Siege of Sarajevo started. A 4 year long campaign of terror, genocide, and destruction. The world knew. The world saw. The world stayed quiet. They refused to allow us to defend ourselves. They said that “Bosnia did not belong” in Europe.

Our pain and suffering became an easily exploitable topic for the politicians, journalists, academics to build their careers off of. To this day, many only have a career because of the Bosnian Genocide. Yet, when it was the worst for us…they watched and allowed it to happen.

The Bosnian Genocide did not need to happen. As all genocides, it could have been prevented. & now they tell us to “remember the past” and they say to “never forget” while they allow the same to happen to Palestinians.

I cannot look at the photos coming out of Gaza and not see Sarajevo in it. Their pain is all too similar to our pain. Yet the International Community, once again, seems intent to ensure that the past repeats itself.

& I cannot help but feel that just as much as they believed that “Bosnia did not belong” and therefore allowed the genocide and horrors to continue for 4 long years….they feel the same about Palestine. To them: we “do not belong”. Our deaths are just a bloody stain on their tvs.

So today I spend my day praying for those we lost in the Siege of Sarajevo and throughout the Bosnian Genocide, I will pray that the world wakes up and sees that they are allowing the past to repeat in Palestine.

May we never forget the beautiful souls whose lives were taken and destroyed, in the name of ethnonationalism and fascism. In Sarajevo, throughout Bosnia. In Gaza. Throughout Palestine.

[mjanelupinblack]

starving creatures | chapter two 🖤

pairing: xu minghao x reader // jun x reader (mainly lol)

description: starving creatures have arrived at your homeland in forks. little do you know, they not only intend to drain the blood out of you... they'll also to break your heart in two.

genres: slowburn (please bare with me), fluff, angst, vampire!au

warnings: blood drinking, lot of blood related themes, repressed emotions, family issues, miscommunication, kinda toxic friendship with cheol? blood and smut will be mixed. emotionally and physically starved vampires oops. did i mentioned blood?

minors dni!!!

Check out the fic’s playlist 🖤

CHAPTER 2

Not even two days were necessary for your neighbors to become a sensation at the school hallways. Rumors are quick travelers, as you told Joshua before. But you forgot to warn him about how easily they tend to blend with the truth. Especially when they linger around people with such an enigmatic aura, like Jun and Minghao. How maddening it is to know that they have so many adventurous stories to tell, but neither of them dares to share a word about them! How unfair to admire their beauty from afar, since they won’t come close enough for one to scrutinize their eyes. Locals get upset with strangers who refuse to comply with their requests...

That’s when fantasy starts to play its game.

Who are they? Orphans of neglectful parents. Why did they leave California? A girl accused Jun of leaving her pregnant but he’s actually not the father and she ruined his reputation and his life. Some people even say their parents kill themselves, but there’s no way of knowing the truth. So, what are they doing in Forks? Protecting each other. Trying to heal from generational trauma. Finding refuge. Surviving. And it is a heart-rending story. Minghao would do anything to protect his younger brother and the only reason why you’d find them separated from each other would be because of school… where Jun sits next to you.

And who are you? Of course, Cheol's friend, but they've never seen you around that much. That is probably because you used to miss the majority of your classes and now you don't because Jun is here, so you must be a gold digger. A freshman asserts he heard you and Cheol get into a fight because of Jun the other day. Another one is saying that your aunt is sick. But one of your classmates bets that, actually, she's a witch. So maybe you are one too. Who lives in the middle of the woods in plain XXI century anyway?

You never liked the attention. You neither want it, nor need it. It’s impractical in a town like Forks. So, during history class, you decide to confront your seatmate about it.

“I would like to know how you handle all this stuff, because it’s driving me crazy.” You say, assuming he will know exactly what you’re talking about. Most of the time, he does.

“Ignore them,” he advises. “They will find someone else.”

“You ignored them, they found me, how do you fix that?” you say. “They say I’m a witch.”

He chuckles. His usually petrified gesture gives up and breaks into a wide smile. You start laughing too, given the ridiculousness of the situation. Rumors are so dumb.

“Mr. Wen,” Professor Moon calls. “As you are so distended in my class, I’ll assume you know by heart all of the themes we’re talking about in this lesson. Please, enlighten us with your knowledge. Let’s go back to World War I. Maybe you can tell us why it was initiated.”

“That’s a tricky question, professor,” Jun answers, still cheerful. “But if you want a concrete answer, I’d go with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary.”

“Place and date?”

“Sarajevo. 1914.”

“You said a concrete answer. Let’s go with the wider one.”

“I’ll have to ask you to be more specific about it. What do you want me to talk about? The alliance system? Economic factors? Nationalism? I can go on all day.”

Well, well, well… If someone had told you Jun would’ve been so thrilled about playing trivia with Professor Moon, you wouldn’t believe them.

“That’s enough, kid.”

After that, he comes back to your conversation.

“You could be a witch, you know?”

“Sorry?”

Before he can say anything, Jun stops himself.

“Nothing,” he answers. “It’s a compliment.”

•••

Minghao avoids discussing the details about the night he got turned. As for most of his kind, it’s a sensitive topic; no one wants to remember the moment they lost their right to die.

He hardly discusses the topic with Jun. Primarly because his brother was the sole reason he ventured into this sick lifestyle.

After a century of consumption, it would be easy to believe that Minghao would have grown accustomed to replacing his bitter coffee with morning packs of blood, but that isn’t the truth. The heavy liquid turns his stomach the same as the first time he tasted it. However, after all these years, the feeling comes hand in hand with the pleasure of satiety and the twisted desire for it not to come from an animal, but from a palpitating neck.

An unthinkable notion that no one dares to speak out loud, leaving Minghao feeling horrible about it.

Joshua tries to reassure him. He says that, in terms of nutrients and structure, pig blood is the most similar to human blood. They’ll have to endure it for a couple of months, at least until Vernon gains the trust of the hospital staff and it becomes easier to sneak out some bags of human blood.

Minghao envies Josh’s lack of interest in human nourishment. Many times he tried to free himself from his appetite, but his instincts won every battle, obliging him to succumb to hospital blood. His instincts are stronger and also wiser than he is. Nevertheless, he tries to suppress them every chance he gets. He does so by exercising, or perhaps painting. He no longer dances because he found movement is a catalyst that, sooner or later, will make his needs erupt like a volcano. So he replaced it with painting, meditation and pottery.

Given the circumstances, his knowledge as a nurse is only a remote memory.

“Hi.”

He’s grown accustomed to suffocating his desires to the point where he completely forgot how to experience them. You, on the other hand, aren’t quite as skilled at concealing your emotions.

“You’re Minghao, right?”

Minghao answers without ceasing his task. With his upper body unclothed, you find him outside his house, leaning over his pottery wheel, his clay-stained arms embracing the wet piece as if it were a long-awaited lover. A wave of heat quickly flushes your cheeks. Your neighbor stares at you, likely curious about the reason for your interruption. He’s used to being interrupted while working. Encountering a nearly naked man in the middle of the forest isn't something you can claim to be accustomed to, on the other hand.

“Sorry for interrupting. Have you seen a white cat?” You ask, with a jar of sardines in your hand.

“Cotton ball-like fluffy, with a black spot on his left eye…”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not,” Minghao answers. “What’s his name?”

“Cat,” You say, a bit embarrassed of your thirteen years old self. “Just cat.”

“I’ll let you know if I find Cat then.”

“Great! I’ll keep looking. Thanks.”

As much as you’d love to continue chatting with Minghao about anything —truly anything— else, your lack of creativity doesn’t stop at your difficulty to name your pet. He continues working on the edges of his raw ceramic vase; fingers sticky from the wet paste he tries to stick the handles with. You don’t have the heart —nor the ideas— to interrupt him once again. And that’s when your seatmate comes to save the day.

“You’re not going anywhere, y/n,” Jun says, appearing next to you like a magician mesmerizing everyone with the trick of teleportation. “I mean… not alone. Especially with a storm coming. Where are your manners, brother?”

“Shouldn’t you be studying or something?”

“Get your ass off that wheel and help us look for the pet. One cup less isn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

“It’s a vase.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

You thought he’d be harder to convince, but as soon as Jun orders it, his brother stops the wheel and puts on the t-shirt he was sitting on. Minghao's resistance to the cold weather impresses you. His muscles don’t even flinch at the freezing breeze coming from the north.

“A penny for your thoughts?” your neighbor teases.

“You’re so annoying.”

•••

It was a huge mistake not to get rid of that mirror the moment they got it.

There was no use for it in the middle of the living room. But there was also no reason to keep it in the basement, as Vernon had insisted. It usually wasn’t pleasant to get into a discussion with his friend. So, as he attended his interview to get a job at the town’s hospital, Joshua found himself following his orders and carrying the furniture down the stairs and to the basement.

The material it was made of felt unbelievably heavy, even for a human-fed vampire. Like Sisyphus, Joshua repeated the same routine until he reached the cellar; going down two steps, stopping abruptly, and trying to catch his breath before continuing.

When he finally reaches the ground, he understands the reason behind Seungkwan’s little present. And he’s grateful that Vernon is not there to see it.

In front of him, he finds his own image. First young, like he hadn’t seen it in more than a hundred years, and then gradually rotting until his skin starts to detach from his cheeks. So that’s the infamous Life Mirror. There are very few in the world, and Joshua never thought he’d get to see himself in one. The more you mesmerize yourself at your young image, the more crudely it’s going to show you the reality of your soul. Joshua used to believe it was just a myth from the vampire folklore. But he should’ve known better. Myths tend to be history for the immortals.

“Son of a bitch.”

That's the last straw. Joshua doesn't care about Vernon's instructions when the Boo Family's welcome was, in fact, a declaration of war—a war they're not ready to fight, nor would they be even if they wanted to. Years of weakened minds and bodies are not so easy to recover, not even with a gallon of fresh blood.

He needs to destroy that mirror before his friend comes home. But his knuckles aren’t strong enough to do it, and the hammer is near Minghao’s workspace, who’s most definitely going to be curious about the reason behind his urgency. As a temporary measure, he decides to throw an old blanket over the structure.

He needs air.

Outside, the ground shakes with the wind. Minghao is no longer at his station, yet the piece he was working on lies unfinished over the wheel. Rain will catch it any second, converting it into a liquid vestige of what could’ve been a beautiful plant vase. That’s an odd behavior from him. Where could he possibly be?

His question is quickly answered by laughter emanating from behind the lodge. Joshua follows his senses until he finds Jun and you jumping like crazy to reach one of the thickest branches of a tree.

“Stop! You’re scaring him.” You tell Jun, who insists on being the one to bring the cat back to the ground.

“Scared? No! He rubbed his head on my wrist.” Jun complains. He sounds very determined.

“Jun, Y/n is right. It’ll be better to bring a ladder. He doesn’t know you.”

“I got…I got him!”

“Wait! He’s gonna…”

Blood. Lots of it pouring from your hand. Maybe trimming your cat’s nails would’ve been a wise decision to make before throwing yourself in the territory of four very thirsty vampires. Your scent is strong, like cold pennies resting on the palm of your sweaty hands, but it is also sweet. Pig’s blood could never be that sweet. The thought of it makes Jun’s fangs start showing without him being able to notice. Minghao notices and quickly grabs your wrist. He turns you around to face him, leaving a trace of dry clay over the spot your blood flowed.

Clay and blood, intertwined.

Your heart races. Minghao's touch is both frightening and tender. He worked hard on his self-control just to be able to handle these types of situations. If you saw Jun in that state, it would be over for them.

“Are you okay?”

But now that he thinks about it, your blood smells like candy taken out of its wrapper. And it running so fast due to your nervousness releases a scent he never sensed before. One that has him dying to let go of his virtues and succumb to sin.

And Joshua notices.

“T/n! Come here, let me see.”

He rips you out of Minghao’s clutcht to check at your wound and you head inside together.

“Guys, grab the cat and come inside before it rains. T/n, does it hurt too much?”

In another scenario, you might have noticed he was trying to distract you. But right now, the spot where Minghao's hand was grabbing still feels hot and throbbing when Joshua touches your hand. It’s hard to concentrate. He gestures for you to sit on the sofa, and you comply. Not even two seconds later, he returns with a first aid kit. You can't help but contrast Minghao's firm grasp with the compassionate way Joshua is holding you while disinfecting your cut.

“You must think I’m a terrible mother,” you say, watching Joshua shake his head as he kneels in front of you to examine your hand more closely. “He’s not usually like this. I don’t know why he got so scared.”

Animals rely on their intuition. They detect danger and protect the people who love them and take good care of them. Joshua knows you’re not a terrible mother. It was Jun’s hand your cat was trying to sever.

“Don’t punish yourself,” he says. “He’s lucky to have you. It was Jun who drove him crazy.”

“He was so nice though, trying to help me,” you hiss at the strong liquid Joshua pours over your skin. “Do you think Hao is okay? His eyes went all weird when he looked at the scratch.”

“What do you mean, weird?”

“I don’t know, dark? I think it disgusted him.”

Thank goodness you think that, among all the things Minghao’s look could have made you think.

“Oh… Yes. Hao can’t stand blood. There’s no wonder he refuses to become a doctor.”

“He doesn’t need to. He’s so talented in ceramics.”

“He is. He will appreciate it if you tell him. Do you see all of the pots and vessels in the house? They’re all his work. Minghao is an artist, he’s always been.”

He truly is. The fact that the piece he was working on has already lost its shape due to the rain makes you feel sad and guilty about interrupting him. You're amazed at how your neighbor achieved most of the patterns and textures. They highlight the house, once yours, with the sparkle you thought it would never regain after your uncle’s death. It’s fascinating to realize that Minghao’s mind is so vibrant with colors.

“You don’t stay behind,” you say to Joshua, as he bandages your now disinfected hand. “Suddenly it doesn’t even hurt.”

“You are too kind,” he answers, smiling shyly while he stands on his feet. “I appreciate the compliment. But I hope I never have to display my skills on you again.”

“Sorry. I’ll pay you next time.”

It’s heartwarming to make him laugh. Before making the comment, you had a hunch that Joshua would crack a smile if you told him something along those lines. His smile is not only kind, but also genuine. It makes you wonder how many of the ones you were given before might have been only half as sincere.

“God, no, t/n,” he answers. “Please just take care of yourself.”

After a few minutes of watching the storm shake the trees, a soaking wet Jun opens the door for his brother, who enters with your cat purring in his arms. You wonder if your eyes are deceiving you. Cat is an animal of strong character and delicate temper. Yet, he sleeps like a baby in your neighbor's embrace, as if he has been charmed into tranquility.

“He liked Hao best,” Jun explains, with his hands on his waist. “I don’t care. I’m not a cat person anyways… Now, who’s making dinner?”

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Heyyyyyy let’s play a game. I write and you tell me how many taylor’s songs possible references you find ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ (there’ll be many lol)

Taglist: @90s-belladonna @milopenne @angel-ishere @cheiyoma @hipsdofangirl

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masterlist | next chapter (soon)

[cr1mson5returns]

Concept: Jason Todd lives, possibly never went to Sarajevo in the first place, and grows up into young adulthood. He makes a decision to leave the vigilante life behind and becomes an EMT, still fulfilling a desire to help people but in decidedly less overtly dangerous ways. Still, Jay could do without the regulars. He tends to see some of the same people on his route a lot, mostly folks down on their luck getting in increasingly worse situations.

But then there's the goddamn kid.

His name is Tim Drake, Jason knows that by heart from the number of times he's picked this kid up in his ambulance. Parents aren't super involved, possibly don't even know their son is in and out of Gotham General's emergency room every other week. Jason files a DCF report about it once or twice, doesn't know if it goes anywhere, but assumes it hasn't because the kid keeps showing up at injury accidents and crime scenes sporting injuries of his own. Eventually Jason asks him what he's doing gallivanting all over Gotham City on school nights. Tim shrugs, like it's obvious. "Getting pictures of Batman."

Jason could kill his dad, he really could. But he settles for calling him up when his shift ends to yell at him instead.

[goranvisnjicdaily]

Timeless Screencaps S2.E5 ∙ The Kennedy Curse

I love this episode so much! I really wish they would've saved Kennedy 😥

I love the fact that they brought Kennedy in the present time, poor him, I'd have freaked out too! 🤣

📷 238 Screencaps from the episode have been added in the Timeless Gallery

📷 93 Screencaps of a Young Goran from "Braca Po Materi" (1988) have been added as well in the Gallery.

I thought I'd have been able to finish screencapping" Timeless" Before returning to work, but the weather was so beautiful, that I just couldn't stay inside haha!

Once I'll be done with Timeless, I'll start Screencaping "The Deep" Then it will be "Crossing Lines"

I'm also waiting for "The Boys" Bluray today, The Amazon delivery guy passed on Friday evening, but I couldn't answer since it was like 9:15 PM and I was in the shower... Talk about an hour for delivering packages haha! Why they're always ringing at the door when we're in the shower or on the toilet???? 🤣🤣🤣

Here's a list of movies I own that I need to screencap as well:

-Helen (Bluray) -Elektra (Bluray) -Posljednja volja (DVD) -The Deep End (Bluray) -Practical Magic (Bluray) Keeping this one for Halloween LOL! -Prepoznavanje (MP4 File, thanks to the person who gave it to me, you know who you are :) ) -Spartacus (DVD) -The Courageous Heart of Irena Sendler (Bought it on Youtube) -Welcome to Sarajevo (DVD)

And Here's the the two movies I don't have, if you ever have them, I'm interested :D -Puska za uspavljivanje -Paranoja

😎

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Je ne me considérais pas vraiment comme une muse.

Jane Birkin

I remember when I was settling in Paris to live and work in this beautiful city, my French aunt (married to my Norwegian uncle) gave me the surprise of my life when she invited me to dinner at their home and there was Jane Birkin, in a big cosy cardigan, a simple t-shirt, baggy jeans and laceless sneakers. I was almost lost for words and more of a klutz in the kitchen than I normally am, but her infectious laugh and her easy going nature just made me forget who she was for one delightful evening. It wasn’t a formal dinner but just friends drinking wine, eating delicious home cooked food, and having a good laugh around the sprawling kitchen table. I was the youngest there - along with a couple of my cousins - in terms of the generation gap, but it didn’t matter one bit. It was just a cosy evening where the alcohol fuelled the conversation and the lubricated the singing around the piano (think of strangling cats).

During one lull in the evening, I was dying to ask so many questions. I had read her book, Munkey Diaries, which were extracts from her diary, dating from 1957, when she was twelve, to 1982. It’s a fascinating read and as someone who also keeps a diary since my early teens it was an inspiration. Throughout the book, she pours her heart out to her toy monkey, Munkey, telling him about everything from her childhood in England to her life in Paris where she met the men in her life, such as Serge Gainsbourg. She holds nothing back in telling the story of their couple, writing page after page to the rhythm of her ardent passion, but does not hesitate to put her foot down when it comes to her independence.

For Birkin was always a free, independent woman, choosing her films and musical interests with conviction. Sensing that her relationship with Gainsbourg was burning out, she left everything behind and moved into a hotel with her daughters, Kate and Charlotte. Her monkey still remained her intimate confidant, a rag doll witness to her heartbreak, particularly when she was seduced by Jacques Doillon. Jane spares the reader nothing. Neither her occasional desire to be done with it all, nor her more frequent excesses of happiness. A happiness she always wanted to share with those she loved. She wrote with such searing honesty and self-awareness that showed the world only scratched at what lay much deeper of this beautiful soul but a complex heart.

As the evening wore the conversation turned towards parenting and motherhood and things like that. I remembered in her Munkey Diaries that Birkin recounted a conversation with her own mother. In it she writes, “"During a bombing, her flat exploded, and I asked her, "What did you take with you?" After a moment's thought, she replied, 'Schiaparelli Shocking Pink Perfume: when you've got nothing left to lift your spirits, you've still got the superfluous.' I happen to mention that - I blame the wine now because the last thing you want to do is go all fangirl over her when she’s just trying to chill with friends. But she took it in her stride and she recalled a story she told elsewhere that many years later she had gone to Sarajevo at the height of the war there. So what does Jane Birkin do? She stuffed her bags with Guerlain lipsticks, tiny bottles of perfume and silk underwear for schoolgirls over there. She said that her mother was right after all. It’s all about being superfluous. By that she really meant what’s important is the essential.

After I heard the sad news of her passing I thought of that as I thought of a way how to memorialise her on my blog.

The thing about looking for a good Jane Birkin picture to post is that there are no bad ones. Go on I dare you, find a picture that looks dated. She was timeless. That’s the clue to her longevity. She wasn’t fashionable but she was stylishly essential. In many respects she presented a fashion paradox: the more Jane Birkin developed her unique signature style, the more brands sought her out. She never saw herself as a fashion icon. She never saw herself as a muse. As she once said, “My look is a cocktail. I'm not as nicely turned out as the french, but I don't care like the English.”

What makes me a little sad is that while Jane Birkin has become kind of an Instagram and social media artefact that fashion girls and luxury and fashion brands use to sell “a vibe”, it makes it all the more easier to forget that she was not just a tectonic inspiration for musicians, designers, filmmakers but also a remarkable artist in her own right.

I could sit in a bric-a-brac room for hours listening to Jane Birkin talk about what’s in or on her famously battered and bulging Bikrin bag, her style and life for hours on end. She was charismatic and stylish, sure, but in person she was absolutely hilarious and so down to earth.

Everything she touched was beautiful, cool and sophisticated as she. Everyone she touched felt their spirit lift a little lighter. It never crossed my mind that she was mortal.

Rest in peace, beautiful Jane Birkin, ‘la petite Anglaise’. My muse.

You’re free now.

RIP Jane Birkin 1946-2023

[mlmxreader]

In The End | König x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hi, hope you're doing okay, don't know if you still take request so feel free to not do it

Could I request Konig with the prompt "Trust me, there's no one else I'd rather be with right now"

Thank you

summary: it's the last battle, the last war. It's the very last.

tws: death, depictions of war and death and injury, swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Sarajevo.

The streets were ruined. Buildings had crumbled and were little more than rubble and dust that would not settle.

The sound of mortars, once an awful thunder that would strike fear into your heart, mattered less than the hum of soldiers trying to keep their wits about them by singing.

It was unlike anything you had ever seen before, unlike anything that had come before; you knew, deep down, this would be the last battle.

It could have been worse, you could have been fighting alongside men that you didn't trust; but you had your boyfriend König nearby, just weeks shy of your planned engagement.

You had Horangi watching with his sniper rifle in the gutted remains of the building behind you. Gromsko was lying in wait with his bayonet, ready for the signal to start the charge.

Everything in you told you that this would be the last chance, the last war you would fight in and the last battle.

Their offences were impenetrable, every time you tried to gain a mile, they would gain three; they had more manpower, better equipment, and a better advantage.

There was nothing to be done, the battle had been lost the minute you had arrived.

But you had to fight.

It was fight and die, or sit around waiting for the jaws of death to finally clamp down with its harsh bite.

You swallowed thickly as you looked at König. Knowing that going home was no longer an option, knowing that if you were to die, then it would be at the very post you were at. You dared to nudge him to capture his attention.

"Beats the Alpine front, don't it?"

König laughed, although there was a nervousness about him as he nodded. "Not sure anymore. Blood mountain is… preferable."

You scoffed, smiling weakly as you looked out at the battlefield. "König?"

"Ja?"

"I'm glad I'm with you," you breathed out. "I'm glad we're together."

You couldn't help but to wonder that, if you died on that battlefield, you might come back; a ghastly spirit watching over poor soldiers who were sent to die. Whose lives were taken not by a bullet, but by orders they were given. So many men had already needlessly died on the streets of Sarajevo, you supposed that you wouldn't be the last.

You supposed that you would be washed away from memory with them; forgotten, your story untold. Immortalised by bloodstains on the concrete. Another life taken by the orders of high command.

You sighed, uneasy as you looked at the other side's double trench lines; they were prepared, they were better. You knew where you were.

Sarajevo was no longer a city, it was the valley of death.

There was no coming out alive.

You swallowed thickly, letting out a shaky sigh. "I don't want to do this."

"Neither do I," König huffed. "But we were given orders."

"Orders were to die," you growled. "Our orders aren't to take the enemy down, or to stop the war - our orders are to die, König."

"Bitte," he said quietly, shaking his head. "Nicht."

You sank down against the sandbags, holding your head in your hands for a moment. "I can't save them."

Slowly, König sat down beside you, and rested his hand on your knee as he frowned beneath his mask. "You don't know that. There might be eine Chance."

"With what?" You scoffed. "We are outgunned. We are outmanned. We are at a massive disadvantage here on every front."

"Kriegsglück," he said softly. "We have that."

"No, we don't," you shook your head. "There's only four of us left. We have no luck."

Swallowing thickly, König pulled himself away from you, and tried to keep as hidden as he could while he made his way over to relieve Gromsko and swap places; he was just about to make it.

Then two shots were fired.

He fell to the ground with a thud, and you raced to his side. Your hands went to the bullet holes, trying to stop the bleeding.

Your skin started to stain. Your fingers were sticky.

You couldn't see, eyes blurred with tears as you shook your head and whispered softly.

"König, don't do this to me," you whimpered. "C'mon, get up!"

A limp hand came to rest on yours, and he let out a shaky gasp. "I must catch my breath…"

"I'm not going anywhere," you whined, shaking your head as you put more pressure on his wounds. You could feel something dripping onto the backs of your hands, but didn't care to think about it. "C'mon! Don't leave me!"

He coughed, the sound rattling and wheezing. "Trust me, there's no one else I'd rather be with right now."

"Don't you dare leave me," you murmured. "König, please."

Something hit your back, and you cried out before you fell at his side; his hand found its way to yours weakly, and held it as tightly as he could. He hates the sound of your cries.

Both of you, coughing blood.

Gromsko screamed as loud as he could for anyone, anyone at all, to help.

You were getting weak, you could feel your heart slowing down as the warm sensation at your back spread; searing agony and damp.

König clung to your hand, weeping as he could feel you getting colder. He wanted to call for his mother, for her to come and make everything okay.

It was his fault you were dying.

His breath rattled, and with the final speck of energy he had, he cuddled into you.

Horangi and Gromsko were too late when they arrived.

They found you and König clinging onto one another, lifeless and cold and limp. The blood on his chest had ceased to run down to his sides. The blood at your back had stained the concrete.

It had truly been the last battle.

It was the war to end all wars for you and König.

But, at the very least, you were together in the very end.

[citaatii]

Dokle?

[lulutaylorsimaginarium]

The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words:1,424

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE

PART FOUR

Will opened the door to Gabby and Frankie’s van to see them both sleeping in the drivers’ seat, stretched out on the passenger side, all arms, and legs. Her face buried in his neck and holding hands

“If I didn’t know any better” he said to Benny under his breath.

“Do we know any better?”

Santiago walked towards the van from the other direction, seeing everything through the windshield. He snuck his arm through the small gap of the open window and pressed the horn for maybe a little longer than he should have.

Frankie and Gabby jumped out of their skin before a stream of swear word run out of Frankie’s mouth in Spanish.

Gabby rested her head back on to Frankie’s shoulder looking up at Santiago through the window

“There are nicer ways to wake me up, Garcia”

Frankie tried not to laugh to the way she always had to be like a bull running towards a red flag.

She couldn’t help herself.

“We’re already late” Santiago yelled back at them before getting back in his van.

As much as she wanted to a huge cup of coffee, she refused to drink instant. It amused her that she couldn’t get a good cup of coffee when they were carting around so much of it right now.

Gabby moved off Frankie and hopped into the passenger seat

“Can I drive?”

“Nope. We’re driving through Peru. It might get a bit hairy”

“Fine”

“But I love you”

“Yea, love you too”

“You nervous to see Seb?”

“Never nervous to see him”

She was worried about the danger that could be bring with her. Not that she was going to mention that to Frankie.

#

Sitting by a fire somewhere in Peru she could be forgiven for forgetting their situation. They were all laughing and joking like there wasn’t some scary guy hot on their trail. Gabby liked it

She must like it.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t come up against people like Costa Rojas before.

The warlords in Africa that threatened her for even being in the area. The dirtbags in Kosovo.

She stood her ground then and goddamn it she was going to get her guys out of this now.

Maybe it was her ego speaking but Costa Rojas didn’t know who he was dealing with. She didn’t carry weapons and act like human life didn’t matter but Gabby also didn’t back down. She didn’t know how. Her pride got in the way.

She noticed how Will was looking at Frankie and Gabby curiously. She knew the question that was rolling around in his head. Gabby could answer it for him without being asked but where was the fun in that?

“Can I drive tomorrow?”

“Nope” Frankie answered quickly

“I need to do something. I’m going crazy”

“Yeah but you’re a terrible driver” Frankie laughed

“I am not”

“What happened to that jeep  in Sudan”

“Okay, that’s unfair”

“You hit the only tree in the desert”

“I was out running rebels with a weeks’ worth of rice and clean water in the back”

“What about Sarajevo?”

“A building blew up in front of me. Yes, I was a little distracted”

“You rolled the car”

“Your point?” she laughed

“You’re not driving”

“You must know everyone” Benny told her

“No. I’ve just been lots of places. The humanitarian world  is smaller than you  would think. Everybody knows everybody. I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s not easy by any means. You see the worst of humanity but you also see the best”

“What about this Sebastian guy?” Will teased

“You’re sounding protective”

“Little bit”

“Seb’s one of the good ones. He’s been doing this aid thing for a long time. I learnt a lot from him. He has a big heart. He’d help anybody, clearly” she chuckled bitterly “When you’re on the job. You see things, you get close quickly and you need comfort sometimes. He always protected me”

“Date anybody else on the job?”

Frankie and Gabby exchanged looks. Gabby  looked back at the brothers frowned playfully at him

“Yes, Benjamin?”

“I have to ask”

“Ok”

“You and Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Seriously, what’s going on there?”

She understood and it wasn’t the first time they had been asked . They weren’t two people that understood or believed in personal space when they were together. They weren’t people that realised when they were in each other’s space, it just kind of happened.

All she did was smile. Gabby looked back at Frankie and looked back at Benny

“Isn’t it more fun if you don’t know for sure?”

Both Gabby and Frankie laughed because they were the only ones that would ever know the truth.

They just smiled.

“So are you guys going to rock out once we get this money to where we are going?” she teased and changed the subject

“Are you going to Australia, Pope?” Benny teased

“Anything is possible”

“Friends with benefits” Will sung out

“I would have thought Aussie’s would have been too easy going for you, Garcia”

“She’s South American”

“He got her into Australia after our last time out” Benny told her, not know what he was about to unleash

Gabby frowned and looked over at Frankie, who did know what was about to happen.

“Baby” he soothed

“Wait, the last time? The shit show? That was to get your little girlfriend out of trouble?”

“She gave us the information we needed”

“You get all your information from pillow talk” she chuckled bitterly “That explains so much”

“Hang on, Toots”

“Toots?”

“Before we talk about favours in between the sheets. Maybe we should talk about Sebastian”

“Don’t”

“You think he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart?”

“I don’t want him to have anything to do this. You forced my hand, just like you forced Frankie to call me. You’re the puppet master, Santiago”

“Poetic”

“And what if I say no to using Sebastian. What if I pull the pin? What if I take the guys and leave you here with the cargo. All tied up in a bow for Rojas?”

Santiago smiled at her. He was actually impressed. They had always fought but she had never threated him before. Not seriously at least

“You won’t” he chuckled “You’re a bleeding heart, Gabriela. You’re a nurturer. You wouldn’t leave someone behind. Even if they burn you from the inside out”

“Ugh” she uttered before walking past him and kept on walking

“Gab” Frankie called out

“I’m fine, Frank”

They all watched her walk away. Santiago just smirked before Benny stood up and followed her.

Will shook his head as Santiago sat back down

“You’re an arse, man”

“I know”

Frankie ignored the both of them watching Benny chase after her.

He found her sitting on a rock, in the peace and quiet. He hadn’t really thought about it, but it must have been nosy being around four men every hour of the day. The only quiet and still person was ironically Pope.

There was a fine line between annoyance and attraction and they were starting to see it. As much as they kidded around about Fish and Gabby.

Things were becoming a little clearer.

He walked up to her and she had no idea he was there. A twig snapped under his boot and before he could blink, she had a switchblade out of her pocket and pointed at him.

“How did you get that through customs?”

“Brought it once I got here”

He sat down beside her and she could feel a pep talking coming.

“You gotta stop letting him get to you”

“I swear I try, Benny. He gets under my skin. He’s like a damn tick”

“It’s just cos we’re all in close quarters. Give it some time”

“You guys could have died. You should have died. Do you have any idea how lucky you all were to make it home”

“Are you saying you like us. Just a little?” he teased “You want us to stick around. You love us”

She actually laughed out loud and shook her head

“Yeah, you’re alright. I guess”

“We love you too” he hopped up off the rock “Don’t stay over here long. We’ll send a search party”

He walked back to the campfire and walked past Pope

“She’s armed by the way. She may kill you in your sleep”

He sat back down next to his brother and they fell into comfortable silence. They didn’t even say anything when Gabby eventually made her way back to the camp.

[illalmusalliin]

#12: Filastin (Palestine)

Oh, Palestine. My heart breaks for you!

This sheet was created in, I believe, May of 2021. Isr*el was bombing Gaza...again. I decided to draw this map and name its streets and parks and religious structures and lake after Palestine.

There are more than 400 depopulated and "extinct" villages in all of Palestine. This neighborhood which spans over four sheets memorializes those places. Many places on this sheet and the neighborhood are even of places that still, defiantly and proudly, exist.

The lake in this neighborhood and the parks that surround it are some of my favorite places in all of my city. I originally named it Nakba Lake, but ultimately decided to name it after the Galilee region of northern Palestine with Lake Tiberias.

We have the Grand Palestine Mosque just north of the main roundabout in the center along with two other major mosques and several minor ones. We have three major synagogues. We have three major cathedrals with several minor churches.

I'm very proud of this sheet. I didn't want Palestine to be forgotten about--not that it would, but that I wanted to make sure it was at the forefront of my mind. This was 2021. A horrible tragedy was taking place in Gaza...and now look at where we are. A genocide. Subhan'Allah.

In this sheet we have depopulated and extant villages and towns. Some of the depopulated ones are:

Rantiyya رنتية

Al-Kabri الكابري

Deir Yassin دير ياسين

Bayt Jibrin بيت جبرين

Al-Dawayima الدوايمة

Al-Birwa البروة (hometown of Mahmoud Darwish--the national poet of Palestine)

Indur إندور

Saffuriyya صفورية

Khirbat Qumbaza خربة قمبازة

Al-Majdal المجدل

Lydda اللد

Safad صفد

Idnibba إذنبة

Iqrit إقرث

Some of the extant places are:

Gaza غزة المعزة

Nazareth الناصرة

Sha'ab شعب

We have streets that come from the Ummah neighborhood directly to the east as well such as Sarajevska Cesta (Sarajevo Road), Jidka Kismaayo (Kismayo Street), Sana'a Street صنعاء, Chechnya Street. We even have some that come from Centrum (Downtown) such as Buckeye Street, Carrer Els Castells, and Bardissi Avenue. Malcom X Boulevard makes its way over to Filastin from the Thawrah neighborhood as well.

[ladyeckland28]

The Destroyer

A fan fiction story

**Disclaimer:** The Destroyer franchise, including the characters Remo Williams and Chiun, are the property of the respective rights holders, Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir. This work, the song and story are a fan creation and not an official representation of the franchise.

Part 1: Resurrection

The steady beep of medical equipment pierced through the darkness. Allison Blake's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry and unfocused. The harsh fluorescent lights above her bed made her wince.

"Where... where am I?" she croaked, her throat dry and raspy.

A figure stepped into view, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Ms. Blake," he said, his voice calm and measured.

Allison tried to sit up, but her body felt like lead. "What happened? The last thing I remember..."

The man held up a hand. "You were on a mission in Sarajevo. It went sideways. By all accounts, you should be dead."

The memories came flooding back – the gunfire, the explosion, the searing pain. Allison's heart raced. "But I'm not. How?"

"My name is Dr. Harold Smith," the man said, adjusting his glasses. "I'm the head of an organization called CURE. We... intervened."

Allison's CIA training kicked in, her mind racing through possibilities. "CURE? I've never heard of it."

Smith's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "That's by design, Ms. Blake. We operate in the shadows, outside the bounds of traditional government agencies. Our mission is to protect America from threats that conventional means cannot address."

Allison's eyes narrowed. "And why did you save me?"

"Because you're exceptional, Ms. Blake. Your skills, your dedication, your willingness to sacrifice for the greater good – these are qualities we value. We believe you can help us in our mission."

Allison tried to process this information. "So, what? I just leave my old life behind and join your secret organization?"

Smith's expression turned grim. "I'm afraid your old life is gone, Ms. Blake. To the world, Allison Blake died in Sarajevo. We're offering you a chance at a new life, with a new purpose."

The weight of his words hit Allison like a ton of bricks. Everything she knew, everyone she cared about – gone. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. When she opened them again, there was steel in her gaze.

"Tell me more about this mission," she said.

Smith nodded approvingly. "Rest for now. We'll begin your briefing tomorrow. Welcome to CURE, Ms. Blake."

As Smith left the room, Allison stared at the ceiling, her mind whirling with questions. Little did she know, this was just the beginning of a journey that would challenge everything she thought she knew about herself and the world she was sworn to protect.

---

Over the next few weeks, Allison's body healed, and her mind sharpened. She dove into the training CURE provided, pushing herself to the limit and beyond. The betrayal that led to her "death" in Sarajevo fueled her determination.

One morning, as Allison was finishing her daily workout, Dr. Smith entered the gym, a tablet in hand.

"Ms. Blake, it's time we discussed your first mission," he said, his tone grave.

Allison wiped the sweat from her brow and nodded. "I'm ready."

Smith handed her the tablet. "We've uncovered evidence of a global conspiracy, one that threatens to destabilize governments and plunge the world into chaos. Your task is to infiltrate, gather intelligence, and if necessary, eliminate key players."

Allison scrolled through the files, her eyes widening at the scope of the threat. "This is... massive. How deep does it go?"

"That's what we need you to find out," Smith replied. "Your first target is a man named Viktor Drazen. He's a former Yugoslav intelligence officer, now working as a freelance operative for the highest bidder. We believe he's a crucial link in the conspiracy."

Allison studied Drazen's file, memorizing every detail. "Where do I start?"

"Paris," Smith said. "Drazen is scheduled to attend a charity gala next week. It's your best chance to make contact and begin your infiltration."

Allison nodded, her mind already formulating plans. "I'll need equipment, credentials..."

"All taken care of," Smith interrupted. "But there's one more thing you should know. You won't be working alone on this."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"We've arranged for you to rendezvous with two... unique individuals. They operate outside our normal channels, but their skills are unparalleled. You'll meet them in Paris."

"Who are they?" Allison asked, curiosity piqued.

Smith's expression was unreadable. "They're known as the Destroyer and his teacher. That's all I can tell you for now. Good luck, Ms. Blake. The fate of nations may rest on your success."

As Smith left, Allison turned back to the tablet, studying the mission details. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was it – her chance at redemption, at making a real difference. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she was ready to face them.

Little did she know, the true test of her abilities was yet to come.

Part 2: Collision Course

The Parisian night air was crisp as Allison made her way towards the opulent Palais Garnier, where the charity gala was being held. Her emerald green gown shimmered under the streetlights, hiding a multitude of concealed weapons and gadgets. As she approached the entrance, she took a deep breath, slipping into her cover identity with practiced ease.

Inside, the opera house was a swirl of glittering gowns, tuxedos, and champagne flutes. Allison scanned the crowd, searching for her target. That's when she spotted him – Viktor Drazen, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he laughed with a group of well-dressed men.

Allison was about to make her move when a commotion near the bar caught her attention. A young man with dark hair and intense eyes was engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument with an elderly Asian man.

"Come on, Little Father," the younger man was saying, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. "We're supposed to be blending in, remember?"

The older man sniffed disdainfully. "Remo, you couldn't blend in if your life depended on it. Which, I might add, it often does."

Allison's eyes widened. Remo? Could this be the Destroyer that Smith had mentioned? She watched as the odd pair continued their bickering, all the while moving with a grace that seemed almost inhuman.

Suddenly, Remo's head snapped up, his eyes locking with Allison's across the room. There was a flicker of recognition, and then he was moving towards her, the older man following close behind.

"You must be the CURE operative," Remo said as he reached her, his voice low. "Smith said you'd be here."

Allison nodded, keeping her voice equally quiet. "Allison Blake. And you're the Destroyer?"

A wry smile crossed Remo's face. "That's what they call me. This is my teacher, Chiun, Master of Sinanju."

The elderly man bowed slightly, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Another of Smith's puppets, I see. Let us hope you prove more competent than my ungrateful pupil."

Remo rolled his eyes. "Ignore him. He's always like this. So, what's the plan?"

Allison glanced towards Drazen, who was now moving towards a side door. "Our target is on the move. We need to follow him, find out who he's meeting with."

"Leave it to me," Remo said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I'll tail him. You two create a distraction if needed."

Before Allison could protest, Remo had vanished into the crowd with a speed that defied belief. She turned to Chiun, who was watching the scene with a bored expression.

"Is he always this impulsive?" she asked.

Chiun sighed dramatically. "You have no idea, pale flower. Come, let us follow my headstrong pupil before he brings the building down around our ears."

As they made their way through the crowd, Allison couldn't shake the feeling that she had just stepped into a world far stranger and more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

---

Remo slipped through the service corridors of the Palais Garnier like a shadow, his Sinanju training allowing him to move in perfect silence. He could hear Drazen's footsteps ahead, along with another set – someone was waiting for him.

As he rounded a corner, Remo caught sight of Drazen speaking in hushed tones with a tall, slender woman in a red dress. He strained his enhanced hearing to catch their conversation.

"The package is secure," the woman was saying, her voice carrying a slight Eastern European accent. "But there's been a complication. CURE is onto us."

Drazen cursed under his breath. "How much do they know?"

"Enough to be dangerous. We need to accelerate the timeline."

Remo leaned in closer, eager to hear more, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He spun, ready to strike, only to find himself face-to-face with Allison.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Allison's eyes flashed with irritation. "My job. You're not the only one who can move quietly."

Their argument was cut short by the sound of a gun being cocked. They turned to see Drazen and the woman in red, both pointing weapons at them.

"Well, well," Drazen said, a cold smile on his face. "It seems we have some uninvited guests. CURE, I presume?"

Remo's body tensed, ready for action. "You know, it's rude to point guns at people. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

The woman in red's finger tightened on the trigger. "Enough talk. We can't let them leave alive."

What happened next was almost too fast for Allison to follow. Remo moved like liquid mercury, his hands blurring as he disarmed both Drazen and the woman in the blink of an eye. Allison sprang into action, delivering a swift kick to Drazen's solar plexus that sent him crashing into the wall.

The woman in red, however, was no easy target. She lashed out with a series of rapid-fire strikes that Allison barely managed to block. It was clear this woman was no ordinary operative – her skills rivaled Allison's own.

As they fought, Remo dealt with Drazen, his movements so precise and powerful that the larger man stood no chance. Within seconds, Drazen was unconscious on the floor.

Allison, meanwhile, was locked in a deadly dance with the woman in red. They exchanged blows at a furious pace, each searching for an opening. Just when Allison thought she had the upper hand, the woman pulled a hidden knife, slashing across Allison's arm.

Allison hissed in pain, stumbling back. The woman pressed her advantage, the knife flashing as she moved in for the kill. But before she could strike, a withered hand grabbed her wrist, twisting it at an impossible angle. The knife clattered to the floor.

Chiun stood there, looking for all the world like a frail old man, yet holding the deadly assassin immobile with one hand.

"Children," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, "must I do everything myself?"

With a flick of his wrist, Chiun sent the woman flying into the wall, where she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Allison stared at the Master of Sinanju in awe. "How did you...?"

Chiun sniffed. "A mere trifle for one versed in the ways of Sinanju. You would do well to learn, pale flower."

Remo, who had finished securing Drazen, grinned at Allison's expression. "Don't let him fool you. He loves showing off."

As sirens began to wail in the distance, Allison knew their time was short. "We need to get out of here, fast. But not before we search them. Whatever this 'package' is, it's key to unraveling this conspiracy."

As they quickly rifled through Drazen and the woman's possessions, Allison couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the tip of the iceberg. The conspiracy ran deep, and they had only scratched the surface.

With the sound of approaching footsteps echoing through the corridors, Remo, Chiun, and Allison made their escape, melting into the Parisian night. They had won this skirmish, but the war was far from over.

Little did they know, the true test of their abilities – and their newfound alliance – was yet to come.

Part 3: Shadows Deepen

The safe house in Montmartre was sparse but functional. Allison paced the small living room, her mind racing as she tried to piece together the information they had gathered. Remo lounged on a threadbare couch, his relaxed posture at odds with the intensity in his eyes. Chiun sat cross-legged on the floor, seemingly meditating but undoubtedly aware of every movement in the room.

"Okay, let's review what we know," Allison said, stopping her pacing to face her unlikely allies. "Drazen and his associate mentioned a 'package' and accelerating their timeline. The documents we found on them reference something called 'Project Prometheus.'"

Remo sat up, his brow furrowed. "Greek mythology, right? The Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to humans."

Chiun opened one eye, regarding his pupil with mild surprise. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet, Remo. Though I doubt these pale conspirators possess the wisdom of the ancients."

Allison nodded, ignoring Chiun's barb. "Whatever Project Prometheus is, it's big. The files mention multiple countries, shell corporations, and... wait." She paused, her eyes widening as she re-read a section of the document. "There's a reference here to CURE."

Remo was on his feet in an instant. "What? Let me see that."

As Allison handed him the file, a sharp crack echoed through the room. The window exploded inward, showering them with glass. Allison felt a searing pain in her shoulder as a bullet grazed her.

"Down!" Remo shouted, already moving with inhuman speed.

Chiun, despite his age, flipped the heavy oak dining table on its side with one hand, creating a makeshift barricade. Allison dove behind it, her training kicking in as she drew her weapon.

"Snipers," Chiun said calmly, as if discussing the weather. "At least three, judging by the angles of fire."

More bullets peppered the room, splintering wood and shattering the few decorative items. Allison peered around the edge of the table, trying to get a glimpse of their attackers.

"We're sitting ducks here," she said through gritted teeth. "We need to move."

Remo, who had taken cover behind an overturned armchair, nodded. "Agreed. There's a back alley behind the building. If we can make it there, we might have a chance."

Chiun sniffed disdainfully. "A true Master of Sinanju would simply walk out the front door and dispatch these incompetent assassins."

"Well, some of us aren't quite at your level yet, Little Father," Remo shot back. "Allison, can you provide covering fire?"

Allison nodded, checking her weapon. "On three. One... two... three!"

She popped up from behind the table, firing rapid, precise shots at the windows of the building across the street where she had spotted muzzle flashes. As she did, Remo sprinted for the back door, moving so fast he seemed to blur.

Chiun, to Allison's amazement, simply stood up and walked calmly towards the exit, bullets seeming to pass through the space he occupied a split second after he'd moved.

With her companions clear, Allison prepared to make her own dash. But as she turned, a figure crashed through what remained of the window – a tall, muscular man with a vicious scar running down his left cheek.

"Going somewhere?" he growled, raising a wicked-looking combat knife.

Allison didn't hesitate. She launched herself at the intruder, using her momentum to drive her shoulder into his solar plexus. But the man was fast, twisting to absorb the impact and countering with a slash of his knife.

Allison felt the blade nick her arm as she spun away. She lashed out with a kick, connecting solidly with the man's knee. He grunted in pain but didn't go down.

They exchanged a flurry of blows, the scarred man's raw power matching Allison's speed and technique. She could hear the sounds of combat from outside – Remo and Chiun were likely dealing with the other attackers.

Allison ducked under a vicious swipe of the knife, countering with an uppercut that snapped the man's head back. But he recovered quickly, grabbing her arm and twisting, trying to force her to the ground.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Allison used the man's momentum against him. She dropped and rolled, pulling him off balance. As he stumbled, she swept his legs out from under him.

The scarred man hit the ground hard, but he wasn't finished. He lashed out with the knife, catching Allison's calf and drawing a line of fire across her skin.

Allison hissed in pain but didn't let up. She stomped down hard on the man's wrist, forcing him to release the knife. Then, in a move that surprised even her, she channeled what she'd seen Remo do earlier. Her hand became a blur as she struck a series of precise points on the man's body.

The scarred attacker's eyes widened in shock, then rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness.

Breathing heavily, Allison retrieved the man's knife and her own weapon. She limped towards the back door, her injured leg protesting with each step.

Outside, she found Remo and Chiun standing amidst a group of unconscious – or worse – assailants. Remo raised an eyebrow at her appearance.

"Took you long enough," he said, but there was concern in his eyes as he noticed her injuries.

Chiun tutted disapprovingly. "Sloppy. A true warrior would have emerged unscathed."

Allison ignored the jab, her mind already racing. "We need to move. Whoever these people are, they know about the safe house. We're compromised."

Remo nodded grimly. "I know a place. It's not far, but we'll need to be careful. Can you walk?"

Allison tested her injured leg, wincing slightly. "I'll manage. Let's go."

As they melted into the shadows of the Parisian back alleys, Allison couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial. How had their attackers found them so quickly? And what was the connection between Project Prometheus and CURE?

---

The "place" Remo knew turned out to be a small, nondescript apartment in the 18th arrondissement. As they entered, Allison's trained eye noted the sparse furnishings and multiple exit points. This was no ordinary safehouse – it had been designed for people who lived dangerous lives.

"Make yourselves at home," Remo said, closing and locking the door behind them. "There's a first aid kit in the bathroom if you need it."

Allison nodded gratefully and headed to tend to her wounds. As she cleaned and bandaged her leg, she could hear Remo and Chiun talking in low voices in the other room.

When she emerged, she found Remo poring over the documents they'd managed to grab before fleeing the other safe house. Chiun was by the window, his keen eyes scanning the street below.

"Find anything?" Allison asked, settling into a chair across from Remo.

He looked up, his expression troubled. "Maybe. There's a lot here about genetic engineering, advanced robotics... stuff that sounds more like science fiction than reality. But the part that worries me is this." He handed her a page.

Allison's eyes widened as she read. "This can't be right. It says that Project Prometheus has sleeper agents embedded in intelligence agencies worldwide, including..."

"CURE," Remo finished grimly. "Which means we can't trust anyone, not even Smith."

Chiun turned from the window, his usually impassive face showing a hint of concern. "The rot runs deep, it seems. Even the mighty oak of CURE may have termites in its heart."

Allison leaned back, her mind whirling. "So what do we do? If we can't trust CURE, who can we trust?"

Remo's eyes met hers, and for a moment, Allison saw the weight of responsibility he carried. "We trust each other. The three of us might be the only ones who can stop whatever Project Prometheus is planning."

Chiun nodded approvingly. "Perhaps you are learning wisdom at last, my son. Though your metaphors could use work."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Allison found herself smiling at the interplay between master and student. But the moment of levity was short-lived as she considered their next move.

"We need more information," she said. "These documents mention a research facility outside of Paris. If we can infiltrate it, we might be able to uncover the full scope of Project Prometheus."

Remo nodded. "Agreed. But we'll need to be careful. If CURE is compromised, we can't rely on our usual resources."

"Ha!" Chiun exclaimed. "Resources. A true Master of Sinanju needs nothing but his skills and his wits. You two could learn much from following my example."

Allison and Remo exchanged a look that was part exasperation, part amusement. Despite his prickly exterior, Allison was beginning to see why Remo valued his teacher so highly.

"Alright," she said, standing up with renewed determination. "Let's start planning. We've got a facility to infiltrate and a global conspiracy to unravel."

As they huddled around the small table, sketching out plans and contingencies, Allison felt a strange mix of emotions. Fear, certainly – they were up against a powerful and ruthless enemy. But also excitement, and something else she couldn't quite name. Looking at Remo and Chiun, she realized what it was: belonging. For the first time since her "death" and rebirth as a CURE operative, she felt like part of a team.

Little did she know, their bond would be tested to its limits in the challenges that lay ahead.

Part 4: Into the Lion's Den

The research facility loomed before them, a sprawling complex of sleek buildings and high security fences nestled in the countryside outside Paris. Allison, Remo, and Chiun lay prone on a hillside overlooking the site, studying its defenses through high-powered binoculars.

"I count at least twenty armed guards on patrol," Allison murmured. "Plus security cameras, motion sensors, and what looks like a biometric access system at all entry points."

Remo nodded, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the perimeter. "Don't forget the dogs. I can hear them in the kennels on the east side."

Chiun sniffed disdainfully. "Pah! Such reliance on technology and beasts. In my day, a fortress was guarded by warriors with honor, not machines and mongrels."

Despite the tension, Allison found herself smiling at the old master's grumbling. Over the past few days, as they'd planned this operation, she'd grown accustomed to Chiun's particular brand of commentary.

"Well, honored master," she said, playing along, "how would you suggest we penetrate such a dishonorably guarded fortress?"

Chiun's eyes twinkled with amusement and something that might have been approval. "Ah, pale flower, you begin to ask the right questions. Observe and learn."

With a grace that belied his advanced years, Chiun rose and began to make his way down the hillside towards the facility. Allison started to protest, but Remo laid a hand on her arm.

"Just watch," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "This is where it gets good."

Allison watched in amazement as Chiun approached the fence. The nearest guard was turning the corner, his flashlight beam sweeping the area. But somehow, Chiun was always just outside its reach, moving with such fluid precision that he seemed to flow like water around the patches of light.

When he reached the fence, Chiun didn't climb it. Instead, he simply walked through it. Allison blinked, sure she must have missed something. But no – somehow, the old master had passed through the electrified barrier as if it wasn't there.

"How did he...?" she began, but Remo was already moving.

"Come on," he said. "We don't want to miss the fun."

Following Remo's lead, Allison made her way down the hill. As they approached the fence, she braced herself for the challenge of circumventing it. But Remo simply grabbed her hand and pulled her forward. For a moment, she felt a strange tingling sensation, and then they were through.

"Sinanju secret," Remo whispered, answering her unasked question. "Manipulating the body's electrical field. Chiun could explain it better, but we've got work to do."

Inside the perimeter, they found Chiun waiting for them, looking for all the world like he was out for a casual evening stroll. Together, they made their way towards the main research building, avoiding guards and cameras with an ease that would have seemed impossible to Allison just a few weeks ago.

As they reached the entrance, Allison prepared to hack the biometric lock. But before she could, Chiun simply placed his hand on the scanner. To her shock, the door clicked open.

"How...?" she began, but Chiun cut her off with a wave of his hand.

"The hand contains all the elements of the universe, child. To one who understands this, no lock is truly secure."

Remo rolled his eyes. "He means he can manipulate his skin to mimic any fingerprint. Come on, let's find what we came for."

Inside, the facility was a maze of sterile corridors and locked laboratories. They moved swiftly and silently, Allison's CIA training complementing Remo and Chiun's Sinanju skills perfectly. It wasn't long before they found what they were looking for – a heavily secured server room at the heart of the complex.

As Allison worked to bypass the room's formidable security, Remo and Chiun stood guard. The tension was palpable, all three of them acutely aware of the dangers that surrounded them.

Finally, the door hissed open. "We're in," Allison whispered.

The server room was a hive of blinking lights and humming machinery. Allison moved to the main terminal, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she attempted to access the facility's most secure files.

"Hurry," Remo urged, his enhanced senses picking up distant footsteps. "We've got company coming."

Allison nodded, sweat beading on her forehead as she raced against time. Just as the sound of approaching guards became audible even to her unenhanced ears, the screen before her lit up with a trove of classified data.

"Got it," she said, quickly plugging in a thumb drive to download the files. "Project Prometheus, CURE connections, it's all here."

As the download bar crept towards completion, the door to the server room burst open. A squad of heavily armed guards poured in, led by a familiar face – the scarred man Allison had fought in Paris.

"Well, well," he sneered, leveling his weapon at them. "Looks like we've caught some rats in our trap."

Remo stepped forward, his body coiled like a spring. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you."

What happened next was almost too fast for Allison to follow. Remo and Chiun moved like twin whirlwinds, their hands and feet blurring as they engaged the guards. Bullets seemed to pass harmlessly through the spaces they had occupied split seconds before.

Allison didn't have time to marvel at their skills. She turned back to the computer, willing the download to finish faster. 95%... 96%...

A meaty hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around. The scarred man loomed over her, his eyes blazing with fury. "You've caused me a lot of trouble, girl."

Allison didn't hesitate. She drove her knee up, aiming for his groin. But the man was ready this time. He blocked the strike and lashed out with a punch that would have taken her head off if she hadn't ducked at the last second.

They grappled fiercely, each searching for an advantage. Allison could feel her strength flagging – the man was simply too strong, too skilled. But as he pushed her back against the computer terminal, a memory flashed through her mind. Chiun's voice: "The hand contains all the elements of the universe."

In that moment, Allison understood. It wasn't about strength or even skill. It was about understanding, about perfect control of one's body and its relation to the world around it.

As the scarred man lunged forward for a killing blow, Allison moved. Not with desperation, but with a sudden, perfect clarity. Her hand shot out, fingers rigid, striking a precise point on the man's chest.

The scarred man's eyes widened in shock. He stumbled back, clutching his chest, then collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Behind her, the computer beeped. 100% download complete.

Allison turned to see Remo and Chiun standing amidst a pile of unconscious guards, both looking at her with newfound respect.

"Not bad, pale flower," Chiun said, a rare smile crossing his wizened face. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet."

Remo grinned. "Looks like the student is becoming the master. Now, let's get out of here before more of them show up."

As they made their escape, alarms blaring behind them, Allison clutched the thumb drive tightly. They had the information they needed, but she knew this was far from over. The real battle – the one that would determine the fate of CURE and perhaps the world itself – was just beginning.

Part 5: Revelations and Reckoning

The safe house was silent save for the soft hum of Allison's laptop. She, Remo, and Chiun huddled around the screen, their faces illuminated by its pale glow as they pored over the files stolen from the research facility.

"This is... incredible," Allison murmured, her eyes wide as she scrolled through document after document. "Project Prometheus isn't just about creating sleeper agents. They're developing some kind of next-generation human enhancement program."

Remo leaned in closer, his brow furrowed. "Enhanced how?"

"Increased strength, speed, healing factor... they're trying to create supersoldiers," Allison explained. "But it goes beyond that. Look at this."

She pulled up a series of complex genetic diagrams. "They're not just enhancing physical abilities. They're trying to unlock latent psychic potential. Telepathy, telekinesis... abilities that most people believe are impossible."

Chiun sniffed. "Impossible for those who do not understand the true potential of the human mind and body. But even Sinanju has its limits. This... this is dangerous knowledge."

Remo nodded grimly. "And CURE's involvement?"

Allison's face darkened as she pulled up another file. "It looks like elements within CURE have been providing funding and cover for Project Prometheus. But it goes deeper than that. Some of the test subjects... they're CURE operatives."

The implications hung heavy in the air. If CURE had been compromised to this extent, who could they trust?

"There's more," Allison continued, her voice tight. "They're planning something big. A coordinated attack on major world capitals, using their enhanced operatives to take out key leaders and sow chaos. It's scheduled for..."

"Tomorrow," Remo finished, reading over her shoulder. "We need to stop this. But how? We're just three people against a global conspiracy."

Chiun stood, his small frame somehow filling the room with his presence. "You forget, my son, that we are not just any three people. We are the Masters of Sinanju and..." he paused, looking at Allison with something approaching respect, "...one who may yet become worthy of the title."

Allison felt a warmth in her chest at the old master's words. But the gravity of their situation quickly reasserted itself. "Even so, we can't be everywhere at once. We need to cut off the head of the snake."

Remo's eyes lit up with understanding. "The source of the enhancements. If we can shut down their main lab..."

"We can prevent them from creating more enhanced operatives," Allison finished. "And maybe even find a way to neutralize the ones already out there."

Chiun nodded approvingly. "A wise strategy. But this lab will undoubtedly be heavily guarded."

"According to these files, it's located in an underground bunker in the Swiss Alps," Allison said, pulling up a schematic. "State-of-the-art security, a small army of guards, and probably some of their enhanced operatives as well."

Remo grinned, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Sounds like fun. When do we leave?"

---

The wind howled across the snow-covered peaks of the Alps as Allison, Remo, and Chiun made their final approach to the hidden entrance of the Project Prometheus lab. They had ditched their vehicle miles back, making the last leg of the journey on foot to avoid detection.

As they crouched behind a rocky outcropping, observing the camouflaged entrance to the underground facility, Allison marveled at the ease with which Remo and Chiun had navigated the treacherous mountain terrain. What would have been an arduous journey for most was little more than a brisk walk for the Masters of Sinanju.

"Two guards at the entrance," Remo whispered, his enhanced senses picking up details invisible to normal eyes. "Another four patrolling the perimeter. Automated defense systems, probably tied to motion sensors."

Allison nodded, her mind already formulating a plan. But before she could speak, Chiun rose gracefully to his feet.

"Watch and learn, children," the ancient master said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "This is how a true Master of Sinanju deals with such trifles."

Before Allison could protest, Chiun was gone, seeming to vanish into the swirling snow. She turned to Remo, alarmed, but he just smiled and shook his head.

"Trust me," he said. "This is going to be good."

Seconds ticked by, feeling like hours to Allison's heightened nerves. Then, suddenly, alarms blared from the facility's entrance. The guards rushed to respond, weapons at the ready.

In that moment, Chiun reappeared. To Allison's astonishment, he walked calmly past the guards, who seemed not to notice him at all. With a casual flick of his wrist, he disabled the security panel by the door, which slid open with a soft hiss.

Remo chuckled at Allison's dumbfounded expression. "Come on," he said. "We don't want to miss the party."

As they approached the entrance, Allison saw that the guards were all unconscious, neatly stacked like cordwood beside the door. There wasn't a mark on them.

"How...?" she began, but Remo just shook his head.

"Sinanju secret," he said with a wink. "Maybe someday he'll teach you."

Inside, they encountered more guards, but between Remo's lightning-fast strikes and Chiun's almost supernatural ability to avoid detection, they made short work of any resistance. Allison found herself struggling to keep up, both physically and mentally, as she watched the two Masters work.

As they made their way deeper into the facility, dispatching guards and disabling security systems with ease, Allison couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and inadequacy. Despite her extensive CIA training and the skills she'd developed with CURE, she felt like a clumsy amateur next to Remo and Chiun.

After they cleared another room of guards, Chiun turned to her, his ancient eyes twinkling with something that might have been approval.

"You learn quickly, pale flower," he said. "Perhaps there is hope for you yet."

Allison blinked in surprise. "Thank you, Master Chiun. But I feel like I'm barely keeping up."

Chiun's laugh was like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "Of course you are barely keeping up. You are not Sinanju. Not yet."

Remo raised an eyebrow at his teacher. "Not yet? Little Father, are you considering...?"

Chiun silenced him with a look. "We shall see. If she survives this day, perhaps we will discuss her potential."

Allison's heart raced at the implication. Could Chiun really be considering taking her on as a student? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

But there was no time to dwell on it. They had reached the heart of the facility – a vast laboratory filled with bubbling vats, complex machinery, and rows of stasis pods.

"This is it," Allison said, her voice hushed. "The source of Project Prometheus."

As they spread out to investigate, Remo suddenly stiffened. "We're not alone," he warned.

A slow clap echoed through the lab. From the shadows emerged a figure that made Allison's blood run cold. It was a man – or what had once been a man. His body was a grotesque fusion of flesh and machinery, bulging muscles crisscrossed with metallic veins. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue.

"Welcome," the figure said, his voice a disturbing mix of human and synthetic tones. "I've been expecting you."

Remo moved into a fighting stance, his body coiled like a spring. "Let me guess. The first successful Prometheus subject?"

The hybrid human smiled, revealing teeth that looked more like steel blades. "Subject Zero, they call me. The pinnacle of human evolution, the perfect fusion of man and machine."

Chiun sniffed disdainfully. "Perfection? You are an abomination, a perversion of nature."

Subject Zero's eyes flashed with anger. "Nature? Nature is weak, old man. I am the future."

Without warning, he moved, crossing the space between them with inhuman speed. His fist, a blur of metal and flesh, aimed straight for Chiun's head.

But the Master of Sinanju was no longer there. Chiun flowed around the attack like water around a rock, his own hand snapping out to strike Subject Zero's chest.

To Allison's shock, the hybrid stumbled back, actual pain registering on his face. "Impossible," he growled. "My body is--"

"Flawed," Chiun interrupted. "As is all that defies the natural order."

Subject Zero roared in fury and charged again, this time aiming for Remo. What followed was a battle unlike anything Allison had ever seen. Remo and Subject Zero moved so fast they seemed to blur, trading blows that would have shattered concrete.

Allison knew she was outmatched in this fight, but she wasn't about to stand idle. As Remo kept the hybrid occupied, she dashed to one of the computer terminals, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she attempted to access the facility's systems.

"Remo!" she called out. "If I can access the main controls, I might be able to shut down his cybernetic enhancements!"

Subject Zero's head snapped towards her, his eyes blazing. "I don't think so," he snarled, disengaging from Remo and lunging towards Allison.

Time seemed to slow. Allison saw the hybrid coming, knew she couldn't move fast enough to avoid him. But then, unbidden, Chiun's words came back to her: "The hand contains all the elements of the universe."

In that moment, something clicked. Allison didn't think, didn't plan. She simply moved, her body flowing like water, her hand striking out with perfect precision.

Her fingers connected with a point on Subject Zero's neck, just where flesh met metal. The hybrid's eyes widened in shock, his momentum carrying him past her as he crashed to the ground.

"How...?" he gasped, struggling to rise. "What did you do to me?"

Allison stared at her hand in amazement, then looked to Chiun. The old master nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Well done, pale flower," he said. "You begin to understand."

Remo grinned, moving to restrain the weakened Subject Zero. "Not bad, rookie. Looks like you might have what it takes after all."

With the immediate threat neutralized, Allison turned back to the computer. "I'm shutting down the whole system," she said. "This should neutralize any other enhanced operatives they've created."

As she worked, Chiun approached her, his ancient eyes studying her with newfound interest.

"You have potential, Allison Blake," he said. "Raw and unrefined, but potential nonetheless. Perhaps, when this is over, we shall discuss your future training."

Allison's heart soared at the words, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. "Thank you, Master Chiun. But first, we need to finish this."

With a final keystroke, Allison activated the facility's self-destruct sequence. Alarms blared as the laboratory began to shake.

"Time to go," Remo said, hefting the still-stunned Subject Zero over his shoulder. "We'll take him with us. CURE – or what's left of it – will want to question him."

As they raced through the crumbling facility, dodging falling debris and panicked guards, Allison felt a strange sense of calm. Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever secrets of Sinanju she might learn, she knew that she had found her place. With Remo and Chiun, she was part of something greater than herself, a force for good in a world of shadows.

They burst out of the facility just as it collapsed in on itself, the secret heart of Project Prometheus buried under tons of rock and snow. As they made their way down the mountain, Allison looked back at the destruction they had wrought.

"What now?" she asked.

Remo shrugged, adjusting his grip on the unconscious Subject Zero. "Now we clean up the mess. There are still enhanced operatives out there, not to mention the corruption within CURE itself."

Chiun nodded sagely. "A great task lies before us. But for now, we have struck a mighty blow against those who would pervert the natural order."

Allison took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, feeling a sense of purpose and belonging she had never known before. "Whatever comes next," she said, "I'm ready."

Remo grinned at her. "Good. Because trust me, rookie, your training is just beginning."

As they continued their descent, Allison reflected on the strange turns her life had taken. From CIA operative to CURE agent, and now, potentially, a student of the ancient art of Sinanju. The path ahead was uncertain, filled with dangers she could scarcely imagine. But for the first time since her "death" and rebirth, she felt truly alive.

The sun broke through the clouds, casting a golden light over the snow-covered peaks. Allison Blake, once lost but now found, walked towards her future, flanked by the Masters of Sinanju. The Destroyer had indeed returned, but in a form no one could have predicted. And the world, for better or worse, would never be the same.

****

Epilogue

Two weeks after the destruction of the Project Prometheus facility, Allison found herself in a nondescript office in Washington D.C., facing Dr. Harold Smith across his austere desk. The CURE director's face was as impassive as ever, but Allison thought she detected a glimmer of approval in his eyes.

"Ms. Blake," Smith began, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, "I must say, your performance in the Alps was... impressive. You've exceeded our expectations."

Allison nodded, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty. "Thank you, sir. But what happens now? With Project Prometheus dismantled and the corruption within CURE exposed, where do we go from here?"

Smith's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "CURE will adapt, as it always has. We've already begun the process of rooting out the remaining compromised elements within our organization. But that's not why I called you here today."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering slightly. "I've had a... rather unusual conversation with Master Chiun."

Allison's heart raced. She'd been wondering when this would come up. "Sir?"

"It seems the Master of Sinanju sees potential in you, Ms. Blake. Potential that he believes should be... cultivated."

Allison struggled to keep her expression neutral. "Are you saying...?"

Smith nodded. "Chiun has agreed to take you on as a student, to train you in the arts of Sinanju. This is... unprecedented. In all the years Remo has worked with us, Chiun has never expressed interest in training another American."

"I... I'm honored," Allison said, her mind reeling with the implications. "But what does this mean for my role with CURE?"

Smith's expression grew serious. "Make no mistake, Ms. Blake. This training will be grueling, perhaps the most challenging thing you've ever undertaken. But if you succeed, you will become something more than you ever imagined. Another enforcement arm of CURE, a counterpart to Remo Williams."

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "You will be molded into a weapon, Ms. Blake. A precision instrument capable of eliminating threats to national security with unparalleled efficiency. In short, you will become a deadly assassin, operating in the shadows to protect our nation's interests."

Allison took a deep breath, considering the path laid out before her. It was daunting, terrifying even. But she also felt a thrill of excitement, a sense that this was what she had been working towards her entire life.

"I understand, sir," she said finally. "And I'm ready."

Smith nodded, satisfaction evident in his eyes. "Very well. You'll begin your training immediately. Remo and Chiun are waiting for you at a secure location. Remember, Ms. Blake, the work we do here at CURE is vital. The fate of nations may rest on your shoulders."

As Allison stood to leave, Smith added one final comment. "Oh, and Ms. Blake? Welcome to the family."

Stepping out of Smith's office, Allison felt a profound sense of destiny. Her old life was truly gone now, replaced by something far greater and more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. She was no longer just Allison Blake, CIA operative turned CURE agent. She was on the path to becoming something more – a Master of Sinanju, a silent guardian operating in the shadows.

As she walked out of the nondescript building housing CURE's secret headquarters, Allison couldn't help but smile. The Destroyer had indeed returned, and now there would be two. The world would never know their names, but it would sleep safer because of their silent vigil.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Remo: "Hope you're ready for hell, rookie. Training starts at dawn."

Allison's smile widened. She was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. The next chapter of her life was about to begin, and she couldn't wait to turn the page.

[chuzhezemnyi]

Vukasin of Klepci was a Serbian Orthodox Christian from Herzegovina who was martyred by fascists during World War II for refusing to acknowledge the Ustashi leader.

Little is known about the life of Vukasin Mandrapa before his martyrdom, except that he was a farmer and merchant. What is known about him is from the events resulting in his martyrdom. He was born in the village of Klepci, in Herzegovina, towards the end of the nineteenth century. He and his family lived in Sarajevo and then returned to Klepci. At the beginning of World War II, in 1942, members of the Croatian fascist Ustasas arrested him and transported him, together with other Serbs of that region, into the notorious concentration camp of Jasenovac (the number of victims at this camp have been estimated to be 700,000), for both their Serbian ethnicity and for refusing to convert from Serbian Orthodox Christianity to Roman Catholicism. At least two nephews of his are said to have died in Jasenovac before he did.



After horrible days full of hard labor, in January of 1943 Vukasin was brought before an Ustashi soldier, Josep "Zile" Friganovic, who threatened to execute him due to his stoic behavior during the forced labor days and a contest of four soldiers one night as to who could slaughter the most prisoners, but who said he would spare his life if Vukasin cried loudly: "Long live Ante Pavelic!" Ante Pavelic was the leader of the Ustashi. Vukasin, who saw a knife in the hands of the soldier, replied calmly: "My child, you do what you must,"* and refused to obey the soldier`s request. The Ustashi soldier brandished his knife and cut off Vukasin's ear. The soldier then repeated his request. Vukasin repeated his answer. The soldier then cut off Vukasin's other ear, followed by his nose, and then scarred Vukasin's face. Next his tongue was cut. After repeating the request to Vukasin to utter the vicious words and hail the leader of the Ustashi (Ante Pavelic), Vukasin once again calmly replied: "My child, you do what you must." After gouging out his heart and slitting his throat, Friganovic is said to have been unable to kill more people that night, fallen into alcoholism, and years later he confessed this to a doctor named Nedelko Nedo Zets, who wrote it down. This testimony would be used later to make Vukasin Mandrapa a saint:

"Franciscans Pero Brzica, Ante Zrinusic-Sipka and me, made a bet on who will kill more inmates in one night. The slaughter began and after one hour I was well ahead of all the rest by the number of the slaughtered.

Some unusual delirium came over me that night, I felt like in seventh heaven. I never felt such bliss in my whole life. After several hours, I managed to kill 1.100 people, while others killed only 300-400 people. By chance, at the hight of my delirium, I took one glance on the side, and I saw one peasant man who was rather old.

He watched me slaughter my victims and witnessing them dying in pain, with some incomprehensible peace. His look struck me, I felt like I was petrified, and I lost the delirium feeling. I couldn’t move couple of seconds. Then I approached him, and he told me that his name is Vukashin, from Klepci village near Capljina, and ustashe killed all his family. He was sent to Jasenovac death camp, for some forest works.

He was saying that with some inconceivable peace that struck me more than all horrifying cries around me. Suddenly, I got the flaming desire to break his peace and serenity by fiercest torture, and to restore my bliss in killing people by watching his pain. I singled him out and sat him down on one stump. I ordered him to yell “Long live fuhrer Pavelic” or I will cut off his ear.

Vukashin was silent. I cut off his ear. He didn’t say a word. I told him again, yell “Long live to fuhrer Pavelic” or I will cut off the other ear. He was silent again. I cut the other ear. “Yell “Long live Pavelic, or I will cut off your nose. When I ordered him to yell “long live Pavelic” for the fourth time or I will rip his heart out, he looked at me, as if he looked trough me into uncertainty, and said calmly and clearly:

”Just do your job, child”.

These words of his made me go completely wild. I jumped at him, gouged out his eyes, rip his heart out, slashed his throat all the way from one ear to another, and pushed him into the whole by my legs. But, then something broke inside of me, and I couldn’t kill anyone else that night. Franciscan Pero Brzica won, by killing 1.350 camp inmates. I paid the agreed bet, without a word”.

[sebsrainbowbicycle]

Tagged by my beloved @luigihamilton44 thank you ana 💖

Rules: Pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.

S - Sarajevo - The K’s

E - Espresso - Sabrina Carpenter

B - Blue moon - Frank Sinatra

S - Ship to wreck - Florence + the machine

R - Red wine supernova - Chappell Roan

A - All will be will - Gabe Dixon

I - I don’t want to set the world on fire - The Ink Spots

N - No Rain - Blind Melon

B - Black hole sun - Soundgarden

O - omg did she call him baby - Beth McCarthy

W - Weatherman - +44

B - Beating Heart Baby - Head Automatica

I - I want to hold your hand - The Beatles

C - Can you feel my heart - Bring me the horizon

Y - You’ll be in my heart - Phil Collins

C - Casual - Chappell Roan

L - Losing my religion - R.E.M

E - Euclid - Sleep token

Tagging no one because I’m half asleep and brain ain’t braining 💖